


safe & sound

by astonishman



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (Technically could be) Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:58:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astonishman/pseuds/astonishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Lydia feels herself unravelling and Stiles holds her together. Immediately after the events at the Motel Glen Capri, Lydia is haunted and can't sleep, and Stiles is there to tell her everything is going to be okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	safe & sound

**Author's Note:**

> Set near the end of Motel California (S03E06). Essentially a deleted scene.
> 
> You should all listen to this fanmix while you read because they are meant to go together (http://astonishman.tumblr.com/post/86600630217)

“Stiles…” Lydia whispered, but Stiles apparently didn’t hear her over the sound of Scott’s vigorous breathing. Lydia could barely her herself think over it. Allison never mentioned the fact that he sounds like a raging hurricane when he sleeps. Apparently Allison and Stiles were so used to it, they could just sleep through it, but it was driving Lydia insane. 

Lydia sighed and thought to herself that she’s probably exaggerating, that it’s not that bad, and that she’s probably just trying to come up with an excuse as to why she can’t sleep. The more she focused on minor inconveniences, the less her thoughts wandered to the events that transpired only hours before.

They were all sleeping in the bus after the motel tried to murder them, well, Lydia wasn’t sure if it was the hotel that was trying to murder them exactly, but it certainly made her skin crawl, and she could not wait to get far, far away from it, so that was enough. She was sitting next to Allison who had tucked herself, as best she could, into a ball against the window of the bus. Lydia could tell that sleeping Allison was wishing she could be cuddling with Scott, but that was her waking choice. Lydia didn’t want to speak any louder and risk waking her up, so she poked Stiles, softly, at first, then a little harder. Stiles started awake, looked around confused and blinked furiously as his eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight. 

“Lydia? Are you okay?” he said, not softly by any definition of the word. Lydia put her fingers to her lips to shush him. She stood up, quietly taking Stiles’ hand, and leading him off the bus. The night air rushed around her as she stepped out onto the street outside the motel. She shivered after a few steps, not from any coolness of the wind, but from the sight of the motel, the eerily bright neon sign flashing, the parking lot that was still wet with the gasoline, haunting her with freshly concocted nightmares. Stiles noticed the chill and silently handed her the hoodie he was using as a pillow on the bus; a kind, but needless gesture.

“What’s going on?” he asked rubbing his eyes and yawning. His voice was soft-spoken, but it still sounded like glass shattering as it pierced through the absolute silence around them. Lydia wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that question. There was a lot going on, she didn’t know where to start. She wanted her anxieties to automatically spill out of her in waves, but she did not want to draw them out of her herself. She wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted from Stiles in this moment, but she knew she wanted him here with her.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked, again, a moment later when she did not answer. She slid the hoodie over her head; it smelled like him, but not like anything else in particular. 

“I just keep thinking that we’re missing something here, the motel…” she said trailing off. Moments before, when she woke him, she had planned to tell him about what she saw in the fire; the person or the monster that appeared to her and only her. She had wanted to tell him about the voices in the rooms; hearing the suicides of dozens of people, of couples, over and over on repeat. She could still hear the echoes faintly even now. 

Whenever she focused on them intensely, she felt like she was suffocating under the crushing weight of death itself. She wanted Stiles to talk, to quash the echoes with his calming voice. She wanted to scream until she silenced them, but something inside her was holding her voice captive. 

With his eyes trained intently on her, she felt closed off – she felt like she was going crazy again and she didn’t want to be the nut-job anymore. She was the only one who could see Peter; maybe this was the same. She wanted to ignore it, to pretend it did not happen, to just be left alone. On a rational level, she knew it wasn’t the same though. The difference being that Stiles is standing in front of her this time, looking at her with concern, asking her to trust him. She wanted to tell him that if he died, she really would go out of her mind. 

When she figured out that the motel was only targeting wolves, she relaxed because Stiles was okay; he was safe. She wanted to say to him that when he stepped into the gasoline, her heart stopped beating. She was so proud of him, so terrified of losing him, she could feel herself unravelling. The flare rolling towards the gasoline was in slow motion; a nightmare taking form in front of her. The figure in the flame, the voices in the hotel, none of that – none of it – compared to the flare threatening to take Stiles away from her.

Lydia thinks that she must be visibly distressed because Stiles won’t stop staring at her. She turns away because she doesn’t want to see any more pity projected towards her; there’s enough from strangers at school, she doesn’t need to see it in his eyes as well.

“We’ll figure it out in the morning, Lydia,” he says, “we’re all okay.”

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she said abruptly. The words were escaping and seeping out of her. After the moment passed, she didn’t even remember saying them.

“We’ll figure that out at some point as well, okay? I promise,” he said. He was trying to be supportive, but he didn’t understand.

Lydia wished she could be convinced. There was so much going on in Beacon Hills right now; she couldn’t let herself believe that her problems were a priority. She didn’t say anything to him, but she nodded delicately to let him know she had heard him. Several moments passed, but he didn’t waver for a moment, he stood vigilant watching her.

“I don’t want to be here anymore, I didn’t want to come here in the first place, and I knew something was going to happen, I told Allison-” she said in a stream of words once the intensity of the silence between them shattered the walls inside holding the words at bay. Stiles grabbed her shoulders and she stopped talking immediately. Lydia kept looking at the ground below her willing it to rise up and swallow her whole.

“Look at me, alright, we’re going to figure it out, okay?” he said. She brought her gaze up slowly; there was no pity in his eyes like she feared, only a mixture of desperation and apprehension. 

“What if we don’t?” she said. 

“We will figure it out,” he said pronouncing each word deliberately.

“What about -” she started to say.

“Lydia, I am telling you that I will figure this out, okay? I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, just trust me,” he said. 

He pulled her closer instinctively, his arms firmly enveloping her without hesitation. She was too shaken up to return the embrace. His touch wasn’t tender or passionate; it was strong and steadfast; dependable. In his arms, Lydia forgot, for a moment, the horrors of the night before, the motel looming unnervingly in the near distance, and the figure in the flames taunting her sanity. Too soon and he was pulling away, but her reflexes refused him the opportunity and her arms wrapped around him softly begging him, with her touch, to hold on. His arms slackened into softness letting her rest her body against his. She felt the worries of the night before bleed out of her listlessly. 

“I thought you were going to die,” she said.

“Why would I go and do a thing like that?” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m serious, Stiles, I don’t know what I would do if…” she said. She wasn’t able to continue the thought; she didn’t want to think about it now that he was safe.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. She squeezed him tighter just to make sure he understood that she wouldn’t let him go.

“You better not go anywhere,” she mumbled into his chest.

“What are you going to do about it? Kill me?” he said.

“That is not funny,” she said looking up at him specifically to see the stupid grin plastered across his face. 

“Come on, admit it, it was a little funny,” he said as she pushed him away in mock disgust, “What did I do?”

“You ruined it,” she said.

“Ruined what?” he asked.

“The,” she gestured erratically trying to find the words, “…moment…or whatever… we were having.”

“Oh, we were having a moment?” he said. She didn’t think his smile could get any wider or dorkier than it was right now. It was stupid, he was stupid, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap him or kiss him. 

“I hate you,” she finally said, “I’m going to sleep.” She started walking back to the bus.

“Lydia, come back,” he pleaded.

“No, goodnight, Stiles,” she said. He followed close behind her like he always does.

Lydia didn’t need to tell him about all those things worrying her, there would be plenty of time for that tomorrow, but, for tonight, she just wanted to be with him, safe and sound, that was enough. 

On the bus, she sat in a different seat and Stiles automatically sat down next to her without her needing to ask him to. Once he had settled, she lay down and curled up, resting her head on his lap. He stroked her hair for a while, but then she brought her hand up and intertwined her fingers with his. 

She woke up early in the morning, in the same position, and climbed over him carefully and sat back down next to Allison. That was something her and Stiles had shared during the night at the motel, but now it was day, and they were leaving. They were heading back to Beacon Hills and diving into all the problems that come with it and everything wasn’t as simple as it was last night in his arms.


End file.
